


this is the start

by CapnWinghead



Series: Nanny AU [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nanny, Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, Food Fight, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kid Fic, M/M, Protective brothers, Teenagers, parenting issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25039633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnWinghead/pseuds/CapnWinghead
Summary: Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.
Relationships: Cassandra Cain/Harper Row, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake
Series: Nanny AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813435
Comments: 23
Kudos: 346





	this is the start

**Author's Note:**

> I had posted this once and ultimately took it down. I made a few tweaks, I think the writing is a bit stronger. I really did enjoy writing the story but it certainly has a different vibe compared to "Thirteen". Clark and Bruce's relationship takes a backseat here as the focus shifts to the individual Wayne children's adolescence. 
> 
> Each section focuses on one child and tells their story. I hope you all like it.

Clark 

Three months had passed and Clark was still no closer to finding a way to tell Bruce about the strange things that had been happening to him.

About the dreams of blazing fire that left him sweaty and shaking when he woke up. About the morning he’d been half asleep and blowing on his coffee when the entire mug turned to ice. About the time he’d yanked on the door to the fridge and nearly tugged the entire thing on top of himself. About the time he’d sneezed and launched himself straight back through the living room wall into his bedroom. About the fact that it was Clark that caused the structural damage that left him staying at the manor temporarily, not shoddy workmanship in a pre-war building. 

Clark still hadn’t told anyone about the day he’d found himself floating several feet above the ground.

Simply put: he was afraid. Of himself and what he could do. Of what Bruce might do once he found out. Bruce barely trusted other human beings – how could he possibly react well to… whatever the hell Clark was? What would he think if he knew what Clark could do? Not only that – how would Bruce react to knowing that Clark not only had these abilities, but that he’d _hid_ them from him, as well?

He’d be furious and, while he wouldn’t admit it, he’d be afraid. For his city, for his children. There was no way he’d let Clark continue to see them. It’d be the end of this little pocket of happiness they’d found together.

Clark wasn’t quite ready to lose that.

So, rather than tell anyone about his new normal, he pretended it wasn’t happening.

Turned the air conditioner on high when he turned in for bed at night. If his coffee was scalding hot, he powered through it. Treated every window door handle and handshake like the entire world was made of glass. If he had to sneeze, he tried his best to fight it. And if he found himself feeling that lightness in his chest that led him to fly that first day, he pushed it down.

Even when Dick flashed those cheery smiles every time Clark came over for dinner. Even when Jason badgered Alfred for hours for help making Clark a birthday cake. Even when Tim didn’t think twice about adding Clark to the list of safe contacts in the security system. Even when Cass flashed one of those sweet smiles only Clark seemed to earn. Even when Damian clung to him demandingly during story time, refusing to sleep until he finished.

Even when Bruce let his guard slip and shared bits and pieces of himself that he’d never shared with anyone else.  
  
Even when Clark found himself powerless, weak in the face of the Wayne family’s obvious affection, he forced it down. Made himself focus on why he was keeping this secret: he reminded himself that it was for their protection.

And not because he was a selfish monster unwilling to let go of a family that had gone against their better judgment and allowed him into their hearts. He tried to ignore the fact that he was proving them wrong every single day he kept this hidden.

+

One night, Clark returned from work to find Alfred in the kitchen.

“Hey, Alfred.”

“Mr. Kent,” he greeted. It was much warmer than it had been nearly a year ago when they first met. It took some time for Clark to realize that this was about as warm as Alfred could be.

“You ever going to let me take care of dinner? At least once?” Clark suggested, pulling off his jacket. “Maybe take some time for yourself?”

“At this point in my life, I’m afraid I don’t understand the concept,” he replied dryly.

Smiling, Clark shook his head and started towards the hallway. “I hear you, but please think about it. You do so much around here. It’s the least I could do.”

He found Dick in the living room literally sitting on top of Jason as they fought for the remote. Tim was in his room hard at work on his laptop. Damian was sitting on the floor in the library, utterly enraptured as he watched his sister avidly.

Cass moved smoothly through a series of twirls, her arms held gracefully above her head. She moved to music Clark couldn’t hear, the room silent save for the sounds of her feet hitting the wood floor as she glided across the room. Utterly focused, her head held high as she spun, the motion incredibly controlled. She came to a stop, her body held tightly in position.

Then she smiled to herself, turning around as she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear

 _How was that?_ She signed, eyes widening as Clark came into view.

 _Perfect,_ Clark signed. He stepped forward as Damian clapped at his feet, eyes wide with adoration. 

Grinning, Cass ducked down to smooth her hand over Damian’s head. _Thank you, little lion._

Clark picked him up as she stood. “You really were amazing.”

Bashful, Cass shrugged, averting her gaze. _Not really. It’s the same thing over and over. Something I found online. I want to start taking lessons but Dad won’t -_ she stiffened, her mouth twisting. Looking up at Clark, her brow furrowed as she signed, _Dad always says no._

“Did he say why?” She shook her head, following Clark out into the hall. Propping Damian up on his hip, he added, “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to him, kiddo.”

Cass brightened, _Really?  
  
_ She hugged Clark tightly, shaking with excitement. “I can’t promise anything, okay?”  
  
She squeezed him tighter.

Clark waited until Alfred took the kids upstairs to get ready for bed.

Bruce stood at the kitchen sink, rolling his shirtsleeves up as he started the dishwater. Inadvertently, Clark’s eyes traced over the muscles flexing in his forearms. The sight always left Clark a little overwarm, his mind quickly filling in the more entertaining things Bruce could be doing with him at the moment. Bruce kept so much of his body hidden throughout the day. Either in suits for work or patrol. It was a rarity for Clark to catch any part of him bare, and those moments were usually reserved for the bedroom. The end result being Clark getting hot and bothered at the sight of Bruce’s wrists. It was like living in the 1800s.

Clearing his throat, Clark leaned against the island, his voice light. “So, I saw Cass practicing today.” Bruce hummed in response, focused on the dishes. “She’s really good.”

“You knew that. You remember the play.”

“That was a while ago.” He chewed on his lip, trying to gauge Bruce’s mood. “I kind of thought she’d be in lessons by now.”

Bruce set a plate on the drying rack, his words toneless. “I know what you’re up to. The answer is still no.”

“Bruce,” Clark began, coming to stand beside him.

“I’ve already made up my mind about this.”

“But she’s done the research. All of it. How much it costs, where the studio is, how to get there, scheduling around Dick’s gymnastics and Tim’s A/V and chess club so Alfred’s not stretched too thin. This woman, Lia Lenkov, she’s amazing. She only takes on one student at a time and Cass likes her a lot—”

“I said no,” Bruce said firmly. He barely even turned his head in acknowledgement that Clark was even standing there. Clark felt his temper start to flare as lightning flashed outside.

“Why?”

“I appreciate your help with the kids, but they’re my kids. My word is final.”

Biting his lip, Clark fought to keep his voice level. “I respect that you’ve made a decision, but could you respect me enough to explain it to me?”

“The answer is the same,” he replied. At Clark’s silence, he sighed, resting his hands on the counter. His voice steady and calm as thunder raged on outside, rain pattering against the windows. “These lessons she wants to take so much are one and a half hours, three times a week. That’s just to start with. On top of her extensive academic requirements at Gotham Academy. On top of her extracurriculars. On top of the ASL lessons she gives her brothers. It’s too much.”

“But this is something she wants to do. And she wants it so badly. Can’t you see that?” Clark asked, his eyes warming. Bruce finally turned towards him, his face flushed, mouth a thin line.

“I’m done talking about this.” Turning around seconds later, dismissing Clark completely.

“Damn it, Bruce.”

Clark’s control slipped – just for a second. In the time it took to take a breath, the warmth in his eyes starts to burn, his eyes flaring red. He had mere seconds to realize something was very, very wrong.

“I’ve already told you – Clark?” Bruce asked, concern bleeding through. He quickly moved towards him, reaching out.

“No, don’t!” Clark shouted, shoving himself backwards.

The heel of his hand smashed through the granite edge of the countertop, barely a blip on his radar as his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Adrenaline set in, the red in his vision growing stronger, brighter and he was burning, burning hotter than he ever had before. Like a fever he would never shake. Thunder boomed outside, the sound bursting through his ears as though the storm was raging on inside his head.

Eyes clenched shut, he rushed the backdoors.

Bursting through wood and glass, Bruce shouting his name in fear. Clark slid on his knees into the brick side of the manor, his clothes soaked through in seconds. Grimacing, he shot blindly through the sky, rising up into the clouds. The cold was nearly unbearable, chilling him to the bone. Arching, he felt every muscle in his body contract as the fire tore through him and the sky exploded into light.

Clark hadn’t a clue where he was going. He fell through the sky faster than he’d planned.

Weak and shivering, falling straight through a sodden wooden roof of an ancient shed. He had a few moments before the door burst open and he was met with the business end of a rifle. After some time, the barrel lowered and wide blue eyes met his.

“Clark?”

Teeth chattering, Clark wrapped his arms around his knees as he weakly asked, “Ma, what’s happening to me?”

Clark sat at the kitchen table, his hands wrapped carefully around a mug of coffee that had long gone cold.

“Twenty-nine years,” was all he could say.

“Sweetheart,” Martha began, struggling to find the words. Finally settling on, “Your father and I were only trying to protect you.”

Clark looked to her, tears in his eyes. “What am I?”

“We don’t know. This man, Mr. Zatara, all he could tell us was that you weren’t from this earth.”

A chill shot down Clark’s spine. “What?”

“I didn’t tell you everything about the day we found you. We didn’t find you in an orphanage. Your father and I were driving along the main road one day and it was like this big meteor shower. Debris rained down from the sky and this big _thing_ crashed into the field beside us. Your father pulled over and we saw this giant crater in the ground.” She smiled, her eyes softening with the memory. “And there you were. This little baby wrapped up in this red cloth. You were so small and harmless.”

Clark fought the familiar warmth he typically felt when he heard stories about his childhood. They were all colored by the fact that none of it was real. Looking at her, it was hard to reconcile her image with the woman that had lied to him his entire life. “When did you know?”

“That you were different?” Clark nodded. “You were three years old. Jonathan was changing the tire on our tractor when the jack broke. The whole thing started to come down on him. By the time I got out there, you’d lifted the damn thing over your head. It didn’t even look hard.”

She smoothed her hands over the tablecloth. “I told him, I said ‘if that’s the only thing, we can deal with it’. I could teach you to control it. But we found out what all you could do.” Her head lowered, hands wringing together. “When your hearing started to cause you pain, we knew we had to do something. Jonathan found Mr. Zatara and we made you the watch,” she said, pointing to his wrist and the broken watch face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We thought it was safer if you didn’t know. Jonathan was scared someone would find you and take you away from us. Lock you up in some lab and experiment on you.” Her eyes were soft and honest. “I guess that fear never really went away. We should have told you. I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

Clark saw the way she cradled her coffee mug. The way her thumb traced repeatedly over the rim nervously. He loved his mother and he knew, with time, he’d come around to forgiving her.

But tonight, wasn’t that night.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, heading for the stairs.

+

A few days later, Clark was brushing his teeth when his mother called out for him.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

“We have guests!”

Frowning, Clark rinsed his mouth out and hurried down the stairs. “Nobody knows I’m here,” he began, coming to a stop.

Bruce was sitting at the kitchen table sipping a cup of coffee. Upon seeing Clark, he stood up, holding out his hands. “Wait, don’t leave.”

Swallowing nervously, Clark looked from Bruce to his mother, unsure of what all she could have told him. “How did you know I was here?”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth quirked, the fondness in his eyes rather confusing for Clark’s nerves. “You’re pretty predictable. I took a guess seeing as your apartment is still in repairs.” He slid his hands into his pockets, cocking his head to the side. “I guess it wasn’t shoddy workmanship, huh? You put that hole in the wall?”

Clark started to respond when a small weight slammed into his side, startling him for a moment. Looking down, he found a small head of dark hair and small arms clinging to him. “Hey,” he greeted shakily, wiping at his face.

Cass pulled away, signing, _Where’d you go?_

“I had to come see my mom for a bit.” At her frown, he explained, “I’ve been having a rough time and I needed to ask her some questions.”

“Here, sweetheart,” Martha said, ducking down to draw Cass’ gaze. “Why don’t you gather your brothers and you can help me make breakfast, okay?”

Cass studied her curiously, looking to Clark in question. “It’s alright. I’ll be fine.” She studied him for a moment longer before nodding and following Martha down the hall.

Bruce followed Clark outside onto the front steps. Clark kept far away, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. With a bemused smile, Bruce sat down on the top step. A black SUV was parked in the drive, the sight giving Clark pause. The idea that Bruce had not only flown into town but brought the kids along, as well, seemed impossible. The idea that Bruce would want to see him at all after what happened seemed even less possible.

“I’m sorry,” Clark said quietly. “These strange things have been happening to me. I should have told you.” He swallowed, his voice thick. “I know I put you and the kids in danger. It was selfish and wrong of me and I’m so sorry.”

Bruce stood, moving closer carefully, his eyes dark. A tear rolled down Clark’s cheek as he held Bruce’s gaze. “Can you ever forgive me?” Clark asked.

“Clark,” he began, reaching out a hand. When Clark flinched, his face fell momentarily. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said, taking Clark’s hand and pulling it away from its place at his side. “You didn’t hurt me. You did everything you could to keep from hurting me.”

Tears rolled down Clark’s cheeks as he nodded, averting his gaze. “I should’ve told you when it started happening. I was just so scared that you’d be afraid of me.”

Bruce’s hands came down on the railing, boxing Clark in. “You should have told me.” Drawing Clark’s worried gaze, he offered a small smile. “I know people that can help you. Find out where you came from, about your parents.”

“You do?”

“After things with Ra’s and you ending up in the hospital,” he stepped back, crossing his arms, “Alfred insisted that I stop trying to take on the world on my own. I met a group of people who do a similar thing that I do to protect their own cities. Some of them have abilities – a speedster, an actual Amazon and a man that can talk to fish—”

“You’re serious?” Clark asked, his eyes widening.

Bruce nodded, his hands smoothing over Clark’s back. “You’re not the strangest thing out there. Not by a longshot.” He cleared his throat, adding, “Admittedly, before you came into my life, the last thing I would have done was trust anyone outside of my family. But they’re good people.”

“I’m glad.” Clark smiled, finding himself calm for the first time in days. “Thanks for coming here.”

“If I came back empty handed, Alfred would’ve never given me peace.” He pulled Clark in close, holding him tight. “And Jason would’ve stopped speaking to me for good.”

Clark spent the day with the kids.

It was somehow easier being home with them as a buffer. Walking the fields with Cass, taking in Damian’s wonder at all of the animals, trying to keep Tim and Jason from killing each other during a game of catch. Dick had taken to treating the beams of the barn like balance beams. Of course, Damian tried to follow suit and Clark nearly had a heart attack.

There was no time to worry about fear of hurting the children. In the few moments before Damian’s playful fall turned into a real one, Clark couldn’t care about his fear. He leapt upwards, catching Damian in his arms. He got halfway through a lecture before he even realized he was holding the child.

And nothing bad had happened.

He held Damian close, letting out a slow breath and cradling his head. Dick was still staring at him guiltily and Clark huffed out a laugh. He reached out and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Don’t do that again, okay? It’s not safe.”

Dick nodded, studying Clark curiously. “Can you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Fly!” he replied, bouncing up onto his toes with excitement. “That was amazing!”

The words gave Clark pause – in all of his stress and worry, “amazing” was the last word he’d use to describe his new abilities. “You think so, huh?”

“Duh,” Dick replied and Clark laughed.

“Come here,” he said, letting the boy hug him around the waist. He concentrated, rising slowly in the air. As painfully slow as they were moving, Dick still cheered like it the most fun he’d ever had. Clark stopped a few inches from the top of the barn, holding tight to the boys.

He supposed it didn’t have to be a curse – being different. Considering what Bruce had said, there were others out there like him – with abilities. Only, they used their powers to help others. They didn’t hide away from them. There was no reason Clark couldn’t be more like them and it wasn’t like there weren’t more people that needed help.

If there was some way to better ensure Bruce returned home to his family every night, it might be this.

+

Clark found Bruce in the kitchen the next morning.

In an apron of all things.

He and Jason stood side by side at the counter watching focusedly as Martha walked them through how to make homemade biscuits. Clark leaned against the door jamb and watched.

“You’ve gotta work the dough, yes, just like that, darlin’,” she praised with a smile, watching Jason roll the dough along the floured countertop. “That’s perfect.”

“Really?” Jason asked, eyes lighting up as he excitedly returning to his work.

Martha came closer, wiping her hands before laying her hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing a great job.”

The smile on his face was hard to look at and Clark averted his gaze. He remembered months ago when he’d been excited about introducing the kids to his mother. Before he’d found out she was capable of lying to him his entire life.

“Is Clark coming down soon?” Bruce asked, rolling out the dough. He moved stiffly, obviously not used to the motion. It made Clark smile.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Martha said, leaning against the counter. “The boy’s still mad at me.”

“He’s not exactly a boy, is he?”

“When you have kids, they’ll always be children to you,” she said, carding her fingers through Jason’s hair. “You take care of them, you raise them the best way you know how. You make mistakes but you try to learn from them and just hope they weren’t something your kids can’t move past.” She cleared her throat, her voice rough. “He might not ever move past this one.”

Bruce looked to her in question. “He’ll come around.”

“I don’t know.”

“He loves you.”

Martha studied him for a moment. “I thought you’d be solidly in his corner. From what I hear, you’re very big on honesty.”

“I am,” he replied, wiping his hands. “But if there’s anyone that understands doing anything to protect your kids, it’s me. He’ll move past this.”

He moved towards her, offering a smile. “He will,” he said gently. 

Martha pulled him into her arms, hugging him tightly. She’d missed it – the startling softness to Bruce’s face and the way his eyes closed as he accepted the hug. It tugged at Clark’s chest, the desire to comfort winning out.

He forced himself forward, running a hand over his head. “Hey, guys. What’s all this?” he asked.

Bruce and Martha separated, looking to him as Jason turned around. “We’re makin’ biscuits! From scratches,” he said.

“Scratch,” Bruce corrected, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. There was a light flush to his cheeks, a fact Clark kindly kept to himself.

Clark looked from Bruce to his mother and to Jason’s eager little face. Crossing the room, he kissed Bruce briefly before wrapping an arm around his mother’s shoulder. “Can I help?” he asked.

Her face softened, eyes welling up in the corners. Covering her mouth, she nodded, touching his face as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Of course, baby.”

Clark stood next to Jason at the counter, his throat tight.

* * *

Cass 

Alfred sat at the end of the table between Damian and Jason, his face carefully blank.

Clark’s face warmed as Dick helped set out the last of the ingredients to make tacos. He’d toasted the taco shells in the oven, fried the meat and laid out bowls of shredded cheese, sour cream, lettuce, pico de gallo and guacamole. It certainly wasn’t Alfred’s usual choice for dinner, but he’d finally offered to let Clark provide for dinner. Clark had wanted to do something fun.

Everyone gathered around, Cass appearing a few minutes in. Dinner started, business as usual. Jason started talking about a new English project where he had to try to write a short story in the style of Edgar Allan Poe. Damian was having a rather in-depth conversation (for a four-year-old) about dragons with Dick, who seemed enraptured. Bruce was speaking quietly to Tim about the new R&D projects at Wayne Enterprises.

Tim scanned the table briefly and asked, “Hey, Cass, can you pass the salsa?”

Cass’ head popped up, her eyes red rimmed and bright. Her face scrunched up as she grabbed the bowl and violently chucked it across the table. Then, she leapt to her feet and fled the room. Tim veered backwards in his chair, the salsa splattered across the table. Everyone stared after her in shock.

Alfred rushed over to help Tim clean up the worst of it, his eyes wide with surprise. “I’d expect this kind of behavior from Master Jason, but not Miss Cassandra.”

“Hey!” Jason exclaimed, his voice muffled around his taco. Swallowing, he asked, “How is it I’m not the one that did anything and I’m still gettin’ insulted?”

Bruce set his napkin down. “I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“No, no,” Clark said, touching his shoulder as he pushed back in his chair. “I’ll go. Stay, eat dinner. I expect an honest review when I get back.”

He found Cassandra in the library.

Instead of her usual spot in the rafters, she was curled up in the corner between an armchair and a bookshelf. Clark had to make himself impossibly smaller to sit opposite her. Her face was hidden in shadow.

“So… that wasn’t very nice,” he began, trying a smile. Cass didn’t respond, her arms wrapped tight around her knees, head down. “That kind of outburst doesn’t really seem like you. I’ve gotta figure something’s going on.”

Several moments passed in silence and Clark’s brow furrowed in concern. “Okay,” he said, leaning back. “Sometimes, when I’m upset, I want some time alone. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Cass’ head raised, the rest of her still buried in the shadows. Finally, she slid forward, into the dim light streaming in from the hallway. Clark’s chest tightened as her tear stained face came into view.

He moved closer to her. “Sweetheart, what is it?”

 _She kissed him,_ she signed, her hands shaking. _Stephanie kissed him in school today._

Clark let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I know that might seem like a big deal, like everything’s going to change, but you’re growing up, kiddo. Stephanie and you are really close. Even if she has a crush on Tim, she’ll still be your best friend.” Cass’ breath hitched, her hands shaking as her eyes welled up. “She loves you.”

 _Not like that,_ she signed, her face crumpling as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Eyes widening in realization, Clark reached out, pulling her into his arms as she cried. He stroked her back wishing had been some way, _any way at all_ to spare her this. The first heartbreak was a rite of passage but, it always seemed to hurt so much more when it was your best friend. Looking back, he wondered how he’d never realized how Cass felt about Stephanie. He wondered how his mother would have handled this.

Rocking her gently, he rested his chin on top of her head. “I know, sweetheart. I know it hurts.” She squeezed him tight, her face pressed wetly to his chest. “I know it might not seem like it now, but this is just one chapter in your story. Someday, you’re going to meet someone amazing and the way you feel right now will just be a distant memory.”

Cass pulled back, listening intently. He wiped at her face, trying a smile. “Believe me. I went through this when I was a bit younger than you.”

_You did?_

Clark nodded, his smile widening. “Lana Lang. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I was in love with her. I read poetry to make her fall in love with me. I even learned some French to try to impress her. None of it worked. We went to school together nearly every year of my life up until college and she never saw me.”

 _That sounds,_ she struggled for the word, wiping at her face. _Awful,_ she finished and Clark laughed, earning a smile.

“It wasn’t fun, but I survived. I went to college as far away as I could and then I met your dad. Things worked out.”

 _I have to wait until I’m thirty!_ she exclaimed, eyes widening fearfully.

Clark hugged her tight, laughing harder than he had in a while. “That’s not what I’m saying. It may take some time, but it’ll all work out. I have no doubt.” He held her for a while, relishing in the fact that he’d made her smile, at least for a moment. Finally, he straightened up. “Cass, I don’t think I have to tell you that what you did wasn’t fair to Tim.”

Pulling away, she moved to sit across from him, her head lowered. _I know. It wasn’t nice._

“He’s your brother and he loves you. When you’re up for it, you make it right, kiddo.” He ran a hand over her head, climbing to his feet. “Now, we’re missing out on watching Alfred consume tacos. This is probably the only time we’ll ever get the chance to see that.”

Cass smiled up at him, taking his hand.

+

Clark returned to the manor exhausted one night to find the kitchen cleared of everyone but Cassandra and Bruce.

Cass stood near the back doors, red-faced, her hands moving in a flurry nearly too fast for Clark to follow.

 _I’m_ **_drowning_ ** _,_ she signed furiously, body tense in annoyance. _I’m spending all this time working on things I don’t care about. This school has the best dance program in the area._

Bruce stood, arms crossed as he leaned against the island, his temple pulsing. “Enough. I’m done talking about this.”

_I’m not! You can’t just put me in a box when you’re done talking to me!_

“You are not going, Cassandra. That’s final.”

Shaking, her hands clenched into fists briefly before she violently signed, _Everything always is with you! You never even gave me a chance!_

“What is this? This isn’t like you. If this is about that girl—”

 _Stephanie._ She signed it again with more fervor. _Stephanie. You know her name._

“Stephanie,” Bruce bit out. “If this is about her—”

 _It’s not! I’m good! Lia says that I am!,_ she signed, touching her chest, eyes bright with feeling. _She believes in me. I could go places._

“You’re taking lessons every day after school. Why isn’t that enough?” he asked, his voice breaking, face pained.

_I have done everything you asked me to. The right way. I’m just asking for a chance._

Slamming his hand on the counter, Bruce asserted, “Gotham Academy has resources for you. They have an interpreter. Your brothers are with you every day.”

Cass’ face twisted as she stepped back, wounded. _You keep trying to treat all of us like we’re the same._ Her breathing grew ragged as she rose up and stared at him defiantly. _But we’re not. I am different._

Eyes widening, “That’s not what I meant.” Trying helplessly, he reached out to her, pained as she stepped back and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “Your signing doesn’t hold you back.”

 _You think it will. You think I can’t be away from my brothers because no one else can hear me._ Her breath came quick and fast, her hands moving with power. _But you’re not hearing me, Dad. You never do. You talk over me so that you don’t have to listen. Because I don’t scream at you like my brothers do, you ignore me._

“That’s not true,” Bruce replied quietly, his eyes soft.

Nodding, Cass’ hands moved forcefully. _I can do things on my own. I can have my own life._

She fled the room, tears streaming down her face.

Clark gave Bruce a moment before entering the kitchen. Bruce stood with his back to the island, hands holding tight to the edge. “How much of that did you see?” 

Clark set his briefcase down and took Bruce into his arms. “Almost all of it. Are you okay?” Bruce sighed, touching Clark’s back as he accepted the hug.

“Not really.” He pulled back, rubbing his eyes. Looking to Clark, he gestured towards the doorway, eyes wide with disbelief. “I mean, what was that? I don’t – I don’t ever remember her being that way with me. Now, Jason – that was his MO. Since day one, he fought me on damn near everything. And Dick – in some ways, he was the worst. Took me being gone and him being the oldest as a sign he didn’t have to listen to me at all. It’s only a matter of time before Tim starts in on me and god help us when Damian gets a little older.”

He shook his head, looking to Clark helplessly. “But Cassandra, she’s my girl. My sweet girl. She’s always been the easy one. That wasn’t my daughter. She’s never spoken to me like that.”

Clark bit his lip, averting his gaze as he chose his words carefully. “Bruce,” he let out a slow breath, grabbing Bruce’s wrist and leading him over to the bar. Pushing down gently on his shoulders, he sat Bruce down as he continued, “That was your daughter.”

At Bruce’s frown, he explained, “Cass is right: she is different. She isn’t just like her brothers. I know you mean well but, maybe treating them all the same wasn’t the best plan. She has a talent, Bruce. A real gift and all she’s asking for is a chance to go to a school that will help her hone that craft.”

“She’s taking lessons.”

“Which was a great step, but,” he chewed on his lip, holding Bruce’s gaze. “Is her signing the only reason you don’t want her to go?” he asked carefully.

“Her brothers are at the academy. She has friends at the academy. Sending her off to some strange place, where she’ll be all alone?” He shook his head, immediately dismissing it. “I won’t do that.”

“Bruce—”

“I won’t do it, Clark. I won’t let her be the new kid that everyone stares at and talks about, that nobody tries to get to know. I won’t let that happen. I won’t let my daughter grow up alone,” he finished, his eyes bright.

Clark held his gaze, reaching out to touch Bruce’s face. He shivered, his face softening as Clark studied him for a moment. “I’m sorry that happened to you. It couldn’t have been easy after losing your parents.”

Bruce wrapped his hand around Clark’s wrist, holding him there. Sighing heavily, his eyes closed. “But?”

Smiling, Clark leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Cass is not you. She’s not her brothers. That’s what she’s been trying to tell you all this time. She just wants you to give her _a chance._ That’s all. You holding her back because you’re scared she’ll fail… I know you mean well, but—”

“I’m screwing things up,” he finished, looking to Clark quietly. “She’s special, Clark. I just worry that the others won’t see that. That they won’t see how great she is.”

“I know.” He pressed two kisses to the top of Bruce’s head and pulled away. “Now, go make it right.”

Bruce nodded, touching his shoulder as he climbed to his feet.

+

Bruce opened the passenger side door.

Cass’ face transformed completely.

Eyes widening, bright and brimming with excitement as she nervously clutched the straps of her backpack. Standing on the sidewalk, she gazed up at the front doors of the Gotham Performing Arts Academy. It was just as glossy and colorful as the pictures: the front doors and windows solid glass revealing the color blocking walls and spiral staircases. It must’ve been a passing period considering the halls were swarming with kids of different ages and varying bright hair colors.

Cass rose up on her toes, looking to her father eagerly. As wary as Bruce was deep down, her enthusiasm warmed him considerably. It reminded him why he was doing this.

“You’re sure?” he asked for the fifth time since he’d begun the drive here. Alfred had offered but Bruce insisted. He had to be the one to do this.

Nose wrinkling, Cass tightened her grip on her backpack, nodding firmly.

Bruce followed the motion, stomach twisting with nerves as he straightened. “Okay, but you have your phone. If you need me for anything, _anything at all_ , you text me, okay?”

Shaking her head, she signed, _Really, Dad. I’ll be fine._

She turned just in time for a collision. A quick moving girl with startlingly blue hair and a lot of objects in hand barreled into Cass, startling Bruce forward in concern.

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry. I’m the clumsiest human being on the planet. I was running late, because I always am apparently, and I wasn’t paying attention,” the girl said in a rush, gathering her things. She stuffed several papers into her backpack with a huff, her mouth moving a mile a minute as Bruce and Cass stared in confusion. “Totally my fault. I tried to get up earlier, but you know, that sucks.”

Standing, she looked to Cass with a bashful smile. Cass looked to Bruce, her brow furrowed. At girl’s silent stare, Cass signed, _It’s okay. I’m fine._

The girl’s eyes widened and Bruce tensed warily. _Still, I’m sorry. I should totally watch where I’m going,_ the girl replied.

Cass brightened instantly, _You sign?_

 _One of my foster moms is deaf, so I learned when I first came to live with them. Plus, it comes in handy when I run into really cute girls. Literally,_ she added with a flourish.

Cass’ cheeks reddened and she averted her gaze sharply, hiding a smile. Bruce silently lamented watching someone flirt openly with his daughter. After some time, Cass seemed to realize he was still there and looked to him in question. Clearing his throat, he stiffly took a step back toward the car.

“I suppose I should head on to work. You have your phone so,” he trailed off, giving her one last once over to try to ease his nerves. “I’ll see you back here this afternoon. Have a good first day at school.” He looked to the girl. “Nice meeting you…?”

 _Harper_ , she spelled with a smirk.

“Harper,” he said with a nod.

As he turned, a small weight crashed into his side. Cass hugged him tight around the waist, her face buried in his stomach. Bruce swallowed past the knot in his throat, cupping the back of her head as he held her. She pulled away all too soon.

Stepping back, she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. With a sweet smile, she cocked her head to the side, eyes warm.

_Thank you._

* * *

Jason & Tim 

Bruce had just settled into bed with Clark when a scream echoed throughout the manor.

Grumbling, he rolled over onto his back muttering quietly to himself. Then, with a beleaguered sigh, he started to rise. A hand pushed down on the center of his chest as Clark whispered, “Go to sleep. I’ll see who tried to kill who and with what.”

“I can do it,” Bruce mumbled, finally opening his eyes.

“You’ve been out all night, get some sleep,” he replied, pressing a kiss to Bruce’s forehead. He climbed out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt.

They’d agreed, when Clark begun going out with the League on missions: one of them always had to stay home with the kids. Partially to play distraction from the other’s absence. It was a lot easier to convince the kids everything was situation normal when at least one of them was there for dinner and the science fair and the parent/teacher conferences (and hadn’t it been fun for Clark to attend one of those). A few times, one of them stayed back by lack of choice. When a fight with King Shark left Bruce with a shattered collarbone or a run in with Lex Luthor left Clark weak and slowly healing back at the manor.

At this point, Clark had all but moved in. Every mission kept running later and later, Dick was growing more and more suspicious, Cass had less time to teach her brothers ASL and needed Clark’s help. Damian was getting more and more demanding of Clark’s time. It just made sense for Clark to be here more often and Bruce didn’t seem to mind. However, he’d kept his apartment in the city, for all that he rarely saw of it these days.

The hall was dark, the doorway to Tim’s bedroom lip up. Moving in closer, Clark heard tiny feet shuffle across the wood floors before coming to a stop. Inside, he heard quiet voices.

“What is it, D?”

“Bats,” came the trembling reply.

“Yeah, they can be pretty scary.” Bedsprings sounded and then Tim whispered, “C’mon, get under the covers. It’s safe here.”

Clark peeked through the crack in the door and watched Damian scurry under the covers beside his brother, eyes wide with fear. “They’re gonna get me,” he insisted.

Tim hugged him close. “No way. I’ll protect you,” he promised matter of factly, closing his eyes.

Smiling, Clark quietly closed the door. As he turned, he caught Jason wide eyed and frozen in the doorway to his bedroom. He quickly disappeared inside and he’d nearly closed the door when Clark caught it.

“Hey, what are you still doing up?”

Jason had climbed in bed, his eyes wide with obvious guilt as he stared at Clark, frozen. “I was just getting some water.”

“Must’ve been pretty fast. I was in the hall for at least a few minutes and I never saw you.”

Jason crossed his arms, a closed laptop coming into view. Seeing Clark caught him out, he huffed out a breath, “He’s a big baby!”

“Damian? The four-year-old?” At Jason’s eye roll, Clark came to sit in his usual chair. “What happened?”

“I was watching a movie.”

“After lights out?”

“I couldn’t sleep and I was bored so,” he ran a hand through his hair. “And anyway, he wasn’t supposed to be up and walking around but since you guys took him out of the cage—”

“Crib,” Clark corrected.

“Whatever, he just gets up and walks around and he came in here. And I thought, you know, whatever, he never hangs out with me during the day so what could it hurt?” He stuck his lip out, glaring at Clark. “It was just a stupid vampire movie. When the vampires turned into bats and attacked everyone, he got scared and ran out. Because he’s a big baby.”

“Jason,” Clark began, covering his face. He didn’t know where to start. Sighing, “Damian just wants to spend time with you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He only hangs out with Tim.”

“Because you push him away every time he tries to spend time with you.” Jason’s eyes widened in response.

His mouth opened and closed for a bit, wordless. Then, “Well, if he got scared, he could’ve just said before it got really scary.”

“I’m sure he wanted to seem brave for his big brother.” Frowning, Jason shook his head, staring at the wall. “You know he doesn’t know yet that the stuff we see in the movies isn’t real.”

Picking at the blankets, Jason muttered, “When I was his age, I didn’t have anybody to tell me not to be scared.” He peeked up at Clark, hesitant, “My mom wasn’t around much and I didn’t have a dad.”

Nodding, Clark reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “But, now you have your siblings, your dad and me.”

Jason’s face scrunched up. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Maybe not now, but you’re older.” Leaning back, Clark added, “And you’re a big brother. Maybe try to imagine what you would’ve wanted when you were Damian’s age. I’m thinking, if he had a big brother that could show why he shouldn’t be afraid, maybe show him that real bats aren’t scary, it would help.”

Brow furrowed, Jason nodded. “You want me to talk to Tim.”

Laughing, Clark ruffled his hair. “You know what I mean.” He stood up, pushing the chair back under the desk. “How about we take Damian to a conservatory someday and learn more about bats?”

“You really think he’d go somewhere with me?” He’d meant it to sound snarky but Clark heard the anxiety underneath.

“Of course. He loves you.”

Jason chewed on this for a minute, crossing his arms. “You don’t get it. Tim… he’s good at stuff. Not just at school but this kind of stuff – feelings and crap. I’m not stupid – I know that, but I don’t _know everything._ He fixes the TV and the laptops when they break. He even took apart Dick’s iPod once when it broke. And he plays chess with Bruce and Alfred – _and wins!_ And he grew up with money – all this fancy shit isn’t new to him. He just…” he let out a frustrated huff, lowering his head.

“He’s got all that stuff and Damian just loves him so much. Never had room for anybody else.” He chewed on a nail, muttering, “I always thought, maybe that’s ‘cause, you know, Tim’s so much better than me.”

The words gave Clark pause and an uncomfortable knot in his throat. Should he tell Jason the reason Tim clung so hard to his baby brother? It wasn’t his secret to tell. Should he tell Jason he could try a little harder to spend time with Damian? Should he tell him to try harder to make peace with Tim? Deep down, Jason most likely didn’t realize he was letting jealousy to build a wall between him and his brothers.

“Jason, you have your strong points, just like Tim does. You know why Damian tries so hard to spend time with you?” Jason shook his head, his eyes wide. “It’s because he thinks his big brother is the coolest guy in the world. Even when you don’t,” Clark said, pulling Jason into a hug.

Jason pulled way, his head lowered. “Yeah, well, even so, that doesn’t mean he’s going to want to go see the flying rats with me.”

“Why don’t we ask him first?” Clark said, ruffling his hair one last time and heading for the door. “Now, go to sleep.”

This rift between Jason and Tim wasn’t something he could fix in one night. But he might be able to help build a bridge between Jason and Damian. At the very least, he might help a little boy get to sleep without nightmares of vampire bats.

Bruce appeared asleep when Clark returned.

The moment he set foot inside, Bruce stirred. “Everything okay?”

Clark shook his head fondly, shrugging out of his sweatshirt and climbing back in bed. Pressing a kiss to Bruce’s temple, he smoothed his hair down. “Everything’s fine. Jason decided to watch a horror movie before bed and Damian found his way in there. He got a little scared.”

Bruce nodded, putting the pieces together. “Clowns?”

“Bats.”

Quiet, Bruce turned towards him, warm breath misting over Clark’s bare shoulder. “I was afraid of them, too,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Clark’s shoulder.

“Really?” Clark asked, eyes widening in interest. “But you…”

“Dress up as a giant bat,” Bruce finished with a laugh. “It was part of it. The thought that something that inspired fear in me would inspire fear in others.”

“I guess it worked,” Clark mused. “I’m taking him and Jason to a conservatory. I think that’ll help.”

“It might.” Bruce closed his eyes, settling on his side. “Let’s not tell Damian there are hundreds of them down below.”

Smiling, Clark let himself be pulled into Bruce’s arms.

+

Damian was uneasy about leaving the house without Tim.

Clark had contacted the Gotham Conservatory and they were kind enough to extend an invitation that very same day. Clark had the day off, Jason didn’t have any afternoon activities and it would give Alfred some free time that afternoon which he very much appreciated. It had only been after Clark buckled Damian into his seat that he realized that Tim had A/V club that afternoon.

When they arrived, Jane took them out to the habitat. She had on gloves and carried a small blanket with her. Smiling, she gestured above them to one of the many flying bats. There was a particularly small one hanging nearby. “That’s Barry. He’s a baby flying fox bat.”

At the sight of him, Damian stiffened in Clark’s arms, holding tight to him in fear. “It’s gonna get me!” he cried, burying his face in Clark’s shoulder.

Stroking his back, Clark whispered, “No, no, see? Barry’s not going to hurt you. He seems quite friendly.” The bat studied them curiously from his place overhead. Looking to Jane, she nodded. “Damian?”

Jason straightened up, moving to stand beside Clark. “Hey, kid, look at me.” Damian turned his head, still holding tight to Clark’s arms. “I’m not scared, so you shouldn’t be either.”

Clark started to say his words didn’t sound very supportive when Jason surprised him. He reached his arms out – a determined look on his face, even as Clark could see the doubt in his eyes. Damian gingerly pulled away from Clark and climbed into his brother’s arms. Jason shifted a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to hold his brother.

Finally, he moved closer to Jane who had managed to coax Barry the Bat down on the blanket draped across her arm. He was wrapped in it, resting his head on her cloth covered wrist. As Jason neared, Damian let out a low whine, clinging to Jason’s arms.

“It’s okay, Little D. I’ve got you.” Frightened green eyes looked from the bat to Jason, his brow furrowed. Clark watched Jason flounder for a second, his grip tightening around his brother before he lifted his chin, looking to Jane.

“Barry really is quite sweet. If you’re really, really careful, you can touch him. See?” She gently stroked her finger along his furry head. He let out a little squeak, turning into the touch.

Jason watched avidly, excitement brimming in his eyes. “You wanna pet him?” he asked and Damian shook his head, watching with wide eyes.

“It might help if you show him it’s okay,” Clark said, standing nearby.

Jason nodded, reaching out a hand. Damian reached out for Jason’s hand in a panic. “He’ll get you,” he whispered and Jason’s eyes widened, the corner of his mouth turning up.

Eyes soft, he murmured, “It’s okay, Little D. I’ll be fine.” He reached out slowly, checking in with Damian a few times before he touched the bat’s head. He was very careful to be gentle as Jane had been. Barry shifted a bit beneath his finger before settling on Jane’s arm. “See? He’s safe. Not a vampire. Wanna try?”

Damian watched Jason pet Barry a few more times before reaching out on his own, his head on Jason’s chest. When he touched Barry, the bat’s head rose, startling them both. Mouth twisted in a determined little scowl, Damian pet the bat as carefully as he could. Barry blinked a few times, head twitching twice before he settled, letting Damian pet him. His eyes eventually closed, wings twitching every so often as Damian grew more confident and studied the bat more closely.

Barry let out soft little squeaks, nuzzling the cloth further. Fascinated, Damian leaned in closer, looking to Jason curiously. Grinning, Jason looked to Jane in question. “Why does he do that?”

“He’s happy,” Jane said with a smile. “When curls up like that, it’s usually because he’s cold or because he came to us when he was very young and we used to feed him using this blanket to hold him.” Looking to Damian, “Bats aren’t that different from us. We’re creatures of habit and this is one way they seek comfort.”

Barry let out another squeak, turning his head towards Damian as they studied each other quietly. “I think he likes you,” Jane said. Her gaze fell to her free wrist and she straightened, earning a small pout from the boy. “I’m sorry, little one, but it’s time to feed him. I’ve got to take him inside.”

She returned to Clark with a warm smile. “Your boys are welcome anytime.”

As she walked away, Clark stuttered over his response. “Actually, they’re not mine,” he began, watching as she disappeared inside. 

With a shake of the head and a strange feeling in his chest, he returned to the boys. Damian was staring up at the other bats overhead wondrously, a smile on his face. Jason seemed to have gotten the hang of holding him and was pointing out little things above.

Damian pointed towards a bat rustling through a nearby tree and Jason nodded. “Yeah, I see ‘im, kid. I don’t think we can take him home.”

“Why not?”

“Because they live here. This is where all of their stuff is.”

“But we can buy new stuff,” Damian said with a frown, his brow furrowed.

“You heard the lady, they’re like us. If someone tried to take you away from us, we’d be really sad,” he explained, rubbing Damian’s back as the kid listened intently, hanging on Jason’s every word. “And look, he’s got a big family.”

“Brothers?” Damian asked, gazing up at the other bats.

“I bet. You’d miss us if they wanted you to stay here, right?” Damian nodded, resting his head on Jason’s chest.

Startled, Jason looked to Clark in disbelief. Grinning, Clark wrapped an arm around his shoulders, guiding him back towards the car. “Don’t overthink it.”

Nodding, they were halfway to the car when Jason asked, “Hey, Thirteen?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we come back?”

+

For dinner that night, Alfred actually allowed Clark to order pizza.

It had been quite a feat getting Alfred to agree pizza was a suitable meal in the first place. Even then, he’d only conceded as long as it was homemade. Clark wasn’t sure what deity had granted this wish but Alfred finally agreed to allow them to order pizza from the city. His only caveat being that the children had a salad, as well. Clark would take the win.

Jason sat down beside Cass and loaded his plate with two slices of cheese. He also slid a third onto Cass’ plate with a clumsily signed, _You don’t eat enough_ by way of explanation. Scanning the table, mouth full, he asked, “Hey, Tim, can you pass me a slice of pepperoni?”

Tim opened the box, grabbed a slice and chucked it across the table where it splattered into Jason’s face. Everyone quieted, watching as Tim pushed away from the table and left the room. Peeling the slice off of his face Jason grimaced as he set it down.

“Aiming for my plate would’ve been nice, you know!” he called out, glaring as Alfred started to wipe his face.

“Anybody else notice this kind of thing only happens when Clark handles dinner?” Dick asked as Clark set down his napkin and got up to go after Tim.

He found Tim in his room, already buried in a textbook, headphones on. When Clark knocked on the open door, Tim’s head rose, eyes hard. “I’m not talking to you.”

Taken aback, Clark paused for a moment. “Okay,” he said slowly. “That’s fine because I’m talking to you.” Sighing, Tim returned to his book. “Normally, I’d just assume Jason had done something to you when he came home from school today, but I know for a fact that he didn’t.”

“Yeah, because you took him on a special field trip with Damian without asking me.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission.”

Tm set the book aside, his face flushed with displeasure. “You knew I had A/V club today.”

“I didn’t remember that until much later. I made the suggestion spur of the moment and it just so happened I was able to get them in today. It wasn’t on purpose.”

“I bet Jason knew and he didn’t care.”

“What is this competition between you two?” Clark asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “It’s this constant back and forth.”

Grumbling, Tim tugged on his hair a bit. After some time, he muttered, “When Bruce took me in, Jason didn’t like it. We used to fight all the time and he used to hide my stuff, steal my lunch, ‘forget’ to find me when we played hide and seek. I tried, I did everything I could think of to fit in around here, playing games with Dick and chess with Alfred. It was like, no matter what I did, it just made Jason hate me more. Then Cass came and Damian and things just got worse. He kept picking on me and making fun of me. He never wanted me here.”

“That can’t be true,” Clark said gently.

Tim looked at him silently, his eyes hard. “He and Dick were already so close and Dick’s great, he really tries but we’re never going to be as close as he is with Jason because Jason came first. And I love Cass but, if she’s close to anyone, it’s you and Bruce.” He ran his hand over the face of his textbook, his words softening. “When Damian came, he had no one. He didn’t like to be held and he didn’t like anyone except maybe Dad… but he liked me.”

He wiped at his face, “Didn’t matter that I talked too much or that I didn’t know anything about wrestling or baseball. He didn’t care about that stuff. I could talk to him for hours about anything and he just listened to me. He thought I was amazing just for existing.” He lowered his head, mumbling, “I go to school and all day people make fun of me for being a know it all and because of who my family is. But then I come home and there’s always someone here that likes me anyway,” he finished, looking to Clark, his eyes wet.

Swallowing thickly, Clark reached out to tug him into a hug. “Kiddo,” he murmured, running his hand over Tim’s head. “Jason isn’t going to _steal_ Damian away.” Tim looked to him, his mouth a thin line. “At this point, I think it’d take Batman and Superman _and_ Wonder Woman to pull that kid away from you.”

Tim shook his head, fighting a smile as Clark continued. “Damian spending more time with Jason isn’t going to make him love you any less.”

“Jason already has Dick, why does he need to take Damian, too?”

“Your brother made a mistake and he was trying to do something nice to fix it. He sees the way Dick is with you all and how you are with Damian and he doesn’t think he knows how to be a good big brother. Today was the first day he felt like he might be able to do it.” Tim listened carefully, letting some of his guard down. Clark pulled him into his side, adding, “You know, the entire drive there, Damian kept asking where you were?”

“He did?”

“Yep. He wants you to come when we go again. He wants to share things with you. He thinks about you a lot when you’re not there.”

Tim smiled, staring up at him. “You really think so?”

Nodding, Clark hugged him tight and stood up. “Jason will never replace you. And I think there’s definitely enough room for both of you to spend time with your little brother.” Tim nodded, scratching at his nose. “And I know I don’t have to tell you that you need to apologize for what you did tonight.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think pepperoni to the face is going to kill him,” he muttered. At Clark’s silent stare, he sighed. “Fine.”

+

A few nights later, Damian’s new books came in the mail.

Excited, he took the bundle from Clark and ran straight over to Tim. Smiling, Tim set his tablet aside. “Hey, D. What’d you get?” Damian handed it over, leaning against the chair. “Bats, huh? Looks pretty cool.”

“Read to me? Please” he asked, eyes brimming with excitement.

Moving over, Tim made room for him in the armchair. “Sure! Come up here.”

Jason glanced over from his spot on the couch, wrapping his arms tight around his knees as he pointedly focused on the television. As Damian settled at Tim’s side, excitedly turning the pages, Tim looked over at his older brother. A thought occurred.

He cupped the back of Damian’s head, smoothing down his hair. “Actually, I’ve got a lot of homework. Maybe Jason can read it to you?” he suggested, drawing Jason’s attention.

Uncertain, Damian looked from Tim to Jason before climbing down from the chair. He approached the couch, holding his book overhead with pleading eyes. Jason looked to Tim, trying to downplay his nervousness. “Uh, sure, I guess? There’s nothing on TV anyway.” He tossed the remote aside and picked Damian up, setting him on the couch beside him. “What’s this? What am I reading to you, kid?”

“Bats,” Damian proclaimed, turning the pages and pointing to the pictures. Jason turned to the first page and started reading, settling back against the arm of the couch as Damian relaxed into his side.

Tim got up from the chair, heading into the hall where he nearly ran into Clark. Tim hiked his thumb towards the stairs. “I’m just gonna head up to my room to do some homework.”

Clark gestured towards the living room. “Thanks for that.”

Tim simply nodded and headed up the stairs.

* * *

Dick 

Dick’s feet landed perfectly centered on the mat, his arms raised above his head.

There was applause. Grinning, he turned around to find a six-year-old watching him with avid green eyes. Rushing forward, Dick scooped Damian into his arms, hugging him tight. He pressed a kiss against his chubby cheek and laughed at his light glare.

“Hey, buddy. You come to watch me?” Resting the boy on his hip, he watched him shake his head. “No?”

“I wanna practice,” Damian said, his eyes bright and focused.

“Sure thing,” Dick said with a smile.

Setting him down, he stepped back and watched as the boy raced over to the edge of the mat. Dick kept close by, spotting him as he moved carefully through a cartwheel. It was hard for Dick to watch and not think of the first time he’d come down here to teach Damian. When he’d been a little over four years old and so eager to do everything his big brother could do. When he’d been able to do the balance beam and safe tumbling routines. Seeing him now, Dick fought the stupid knot in his throat, knowing that if Jason were here, he’d make fun of him for getting misty eyed like some sort of soccer mom.

Damian landed, his back foot landing barely an inch out of position. Cheering, Dick hugged him close. “You did it! You must’ve been practicing without me.”

Damian hid a smile, “No way, you said I couldn’t.” He looked down at his feet, mouth twisting. “Can I go again?”

“You wanna go again?” He nodded. “I don’t know, little bro. You keep practicing, you’re gonna get better than me.”

“I wanna go again,” he said, scratching at his nose. “Get it perfect.”

“You sure?” Dick asked, shaking him playfully. “You’ll get it in time.”

“Please?”

Finally, Dick nodded, letting him go as Damian got in position again. He moved through the motions again. And again. And again. And again, until his feet were perfectly poised. Grinning, he wrapped his arms around Dick’s shoulders, shaking with excitement.

“You were so good!” Dick cheered, beaming up at him from his knees.

“Damian?” a voice called out. Dick looked up to find Bruce standing nearby, his suit jacket draped across his arm. He must’ve just gotten back from work. Face guarded, he raised his chin, flashing a smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. “Tim just got back from his internship.”

Grinning, Damian fled the room. Standing up, Dick grabbed a towel, wiping his face. “I’ll get cleaned up and go help Alfie with dinner,” he began when Bruce stopped him, holding a hand out.

Eyes critical and searching, “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked. Frozen, Dick struggled for a response, rather baffled. “He is _six years old_.”

“I was right here. It was totally safe.”

“What were you thinking letting him push himself that hard?”

“He asked,” Dick said, his voice raising as Bruce’s face darkened. “He asked me. I told him repeatedly that he didn’t need to. It takes time, I’ve told him that. He wanted to go again.”

It seemed all they did these days was fight. The closer Dick got to the end of his senior year, the more he found himself looking for any excuse at all to spend time outside of the manor. With Roy and Kory, with Donna in the city, even doing grunt work at Dinah’s flower shop. Anything to be out of sight when Bruce decided to pick a fight at home because he couldn’t win out there.

“Why do you think he does that? Huh? He wanted to impress you. To be just like his big brother.” Mouth twisting, he threw a scrap of some dark fabric on the mat, his eyes flashing. “I know what you get up to out there with your little friends.”

Dick looked from the suit to Bruce, eyes widening. Crossing his arms, he shrugged, his face carefully blank. “It’s nothing worse than what you’ve done.” he said coolly.

Bruce was taken aback but only for a few seconds. “I’m the adult, you’re the child. You don’t know what’s really out there and you’re going to get yourselves killed.” At Dick’s scowl, “This stops. Now. Do you hear me?”

“I’ll stop when you stop.”

“You shut this down.”

Scoffing, Dick grabbed his bag, starting towards the door. “You spend a few hours at home, _tops_. Maybe spend that time with your kids instead of yelling at me.”

+

Several nights later, Clark had partnered with Alfred to make pasta carbonara, with marinara sauce for Damian who’d recently found out where bacon came from and decided to become a vegetarian.

He’d just set the plates down when Bruce arrived. He sat down next to Cass, kissing her cheek as he draped his napkin over his lap. At Clark’s questioning look, he shook his head, focusing on catching up with Cass.

Dinner went on without a hitch, conversation flowing quietly. Alfred asked, “So, Richard, I noticed a rather hefty envelope on the hall table this afternoon. An acceptance from Stanford?”

Dick froze, continuing to push his untouched pasta across the plate. Clearing his throat, he lowered his head. “Uh, yeah, I don’t know about that. I might not be going anywhere,” he said quietly.

Alfred’s eyes widened. He started to respond when Bruce bit out, “What?”

Dick’s head rose, his face carefully blank. “I might not be going to college.”

“You’re going,” Bruce said firmly.

“Bruce,” Clark began.

Bruce held up a hand. “He’s going. This isn’t up for debate.”

“’Cause saying it makes it so,” Dick muttered.

“There is no logical reason for you not to—” Bruce began when Dick slammed his fork down on the table, rattling the plates and cutlery.

“You don’t control my life!” he shouted, a lock of hair falling into his eyes. “You don’t control any of us. If I say I’m not going. I’m not going.”

He pushed his plate to the center of the table. “Thanks for the dinner, Clark. It was great.”

He left the room silently. 

Clark paced outside of Dick’s door long enough that Dick called out to him.

“I can hear you out there. Caring.” Clark smiled despite himself.

He knocked on the door, opening it carefully. “Okay if I come in for a bit?”

Dick was sitting on his bed, headphones around his neck as he flipped through a magazine. “Sure thing.” As Clark sat down, he winced playfully. “Unless you’ve come to talk about Bruce.”

“Very funny.” He clasped his hands together. “So, things between you guys have been pretty rough lately.”

“You’re breaking my only rule.”

“I’m just trying to—”

“Help, yeah, I get it. That’s your thing.” He pushed his hair back, closing his eyes. “You don’t have to keep cleaning up after him, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“He screws up with us and you come around after and try to fix everything. It doesn’t help. He just gets away with it.”

“Dick,” he let out a long sigh. “You’re talking about him like he’s some kind of monster.”

“He’s a dictator. And a hypocrite.” He spared Clark a searching look, his brow furrowed. “He parents exclusively by giving orders and ignoring us when we say no. He did it to Jason and Cass and, well not Tim since he’s Mr. Perfect, but now he’s doing it to me, too. Nothing I ever do is good enough and nothing I ever do is right. And I used to try to so hard to live up to his impossible standards but…” he swallowed, kicking his foot out as he leaned back into his pillows. “No more. I’m sick of it.”

Clark studied him, sensing he wasn’t going to win this battle tonight. “Why don’t you want to go to college?”

Dick’s face turned. He turned, his back against the wall as he crossed his legs. Shrugging, he replied, “I just don’t. Besides, it’s expensive.”

“Right. And you’re clearly lacking for money. I think I passed a genuine Van Gogh on my way up here. Just past the gold plated end tables.”

Laughing, Dick shook his head. “Look, Stanford is… great, but—”

“It’s one of the best schools in the country.”

“It is, but…” he chewed on his lip, meeting Clark’s eyes. “It’s far.”

“You’re worried about being homesick?”

“He’s worried about us,” a voice called out. Clark turned to find Jason leaning against the doorjamb. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Dick swallowed, looking up to his brother. Clark remembered when he’d raced upstairs after hearing glass breaking or that time someone had managed to put a sizeable dent in the side of Bruce’s Audi with a football. He’d found the two brothers and asked who was responsible only to watch them exchange a wordless conversation before they both took the blame. 

Dick and Jason had never needed words.

“It’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think?” Jason asked, entering the room. “You giving up your chance to keep your brain cells from rotting to stay here and look after a few snot nosed brats. It’s really sad, Dickie.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Seventeen and you still can’t wipe your own nose.”

“Eighteen and you still don’t know how to read a room,” Jason countered. “We don’t need you around all the time, okay? All you do is clog the shower drain with your ridiculous hair and eat us out of house and home.”

“Someone needs to be here to make sure you don’t burn the house down,” he replied, his voice thick. Eyes bright, widening as Jason came closer, his hands slipping into his pockets.

“We’ll be just fine. Really,” he said, lowering his head as a tear rolled down his cheek. Clearing his throat, he wiped quickly at his face, raising his head. “I’ll step up.” At Dick’s searching eyes, he nodded once. “I will. I mean it. I’ll look after the bat brat, make sure Cass gets some sunlight and I’ll water Tim.”

Dick’s eyes welled up at he laughed. “Yeah?”

“I’ll look after Alfie and make sure the big guy doesn’t drive everyone crazy. I’ll fight with him more so he doesn’t miss you too much.”

Tears rolled down Dick’s face freely, holding Jason’s gaze. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” Jason said, his voice breaking. “Whatever gets you out of the house.”

Dick nodded, watching as Jason toed the carpet. When Jason spoke, his voice was rough. “You’re a great big brother, Dickie. One of the best. You’re my best friend. Shit, you’re my only friend. You were the first person to make me feel like I could be a part of this family.” His jaw tensed, eyes gleaming. “Considering where Bruce found me, that seemed impossible so… I’ll step up. I’ll take care of them while you’re gone. I’ll help Alfie with the chores, I’ll make the demon spawn laugh and try to make the others seem cool enough for Cass to hang out with.”

Dick stood up, pulling him into a hug as he finished, “And I’ll stop trying to kill Tim.” He buried his face in Dick’s shoulder. “I’ll just get it right the first time.”

Laughing, Dick closed his eyes, holding him tight.

Clark gave them some time, studying the trophies lining Dick’s shelves. All for gymnastics, it was no wonder Stanford wanted him.

When they separated, Jason wiped at his face subtly, coming over to study the trophies with Clark. Smiling, Clark pulled him into a hug, resting his cheek on his head. Bruce passed by the doorway, his head down.

At the question in Dick’s eye, Clark nodded once.

He’d take care of Bruce.

+

Even knowing about Krypton and his own genetic makeup, knowing Dick was dating an alien was a little strange for Clark.

He watched as Kory stretched out in the driver’s seat of her convertible, her orange skin glowing in the sun. Jason loaded up the last of Dick’s bags into the trunk. He hugged Dick timidly, barely a few seconds before he stepped back. With an eyeroll, Dick pulled him into a longer hug, kissing his cheek just to hear Jason grumble and push him away. He hugged Tim and Damian, exchanging words. Cass held onto him longer than the others, burying her face in his chest.

He pulled back, eyes wet. _You’re next, you know that?_

Cass shook her head, signing back, _You make that sounds like a threat._

 _You’ve been taking extra classes and quite a few places have their eye on you._ His eyes cut to Bruce’s, a teasing glint in his eye as he added, _Good luck with him._

Bruce straightened up, focused on a spot in the distance. As the children went back inside, Alfred said his goodbyes, as proper as ever. Even so, Clark caught him getting a bit misty eyed as he returned to the manor.

Bruce stepped forward and Dick watched warily. After a few beats, Bruce pulled Dick into his arms, his words so quiet that even Clark almost missed them.

“You’re my oldest. That means you reaped the benefits of being the first one to deal with all of my mistakes. I’m sorry I screwed up so much with you.”

Dick stepped back, his face softening. “It wasn’t all bad.”

The corner of Bruce’s mouth quirked, his eyes hard. “I thought, if I could make it right, if I could find the man that killed your parents… it wouldn’t bring them back, but I thought it would give you peace.” He searched Dicks’ face, his eyes open and honest. A rarity and Dick knew that all too well, his eyes widening with surprise.

“Bruce,” his mouth worked wordlessly for a few seconds. “You didn’t’ have to do that.”

“I thought I did. I thought I was giving you what you needed but, you just wanted to be a kid.” His eyes cut to Clark briefly before he cleared his throat. “So, I stopped searching and started focusing on keeping you safe. I know I wasn’t perfect, but I tried. I’m sorry.”

Dick shook his head, offering a smile. “Don’t be. You gave me a home and a family.” His eyes warmed. “You kept all of us safe and you did the best you could.” At Bruce’s face, he sighed, tugging him into a hug.

“I know you’re not a child anymore, but you will always be my son,” Bruce murmured, tightening his hand in Dick’s jacket. He stepped back, his eyes firm. “I don’t want you out there. Any of you. This isn’t what I wanted for you.”

Dick shrugged. “The JL was out there worried about the big stuff. Someone had to take care of the guys on the ground.” Bruce opened his mouth and Dick held up a hand with a tired grin. “Dad, don’t worry about the Titans. Besides, we’re going to be on different coasts for a while.”

“I don’t care how old you get, I’ll always worry about you.”

Dick’s grin widened as Clark stepped forward, pulling him into hug. When he pulled back, Dick wiped at his face. Laughing, he said, “I’m sorry. Weird day.”

“I know,” Clark replied. “Believe it or not, I was worse.”

“Yeah?”

“When I went off to college, I think it took my mom four hours to get rid of me.” Bruce headed back inside, his shoulders tensed. Dick watched, his face drawn. “It gets easier.”

“You promise?”

* * *

Damian 

Clark came home from work one night to find the dining room table occupied.

Damian, Tim and Jason sat at the table in varying states of disarray. A healing bruise on Damian’s left cheek and a gash above his right brow. Tim was sporting a black eye and split lip. Jason’s face was clear but his knuckles were busted and badly bruised.

Dropping his jacket and briefcase, Clark rushed forward. Kneeling at Damian’s side, he touched his face gently. “Oh my god, what happened?”

Damian’s scowl softened a bit as he turned away. Alfred paced the front of the room. “Suspended, the three of you! Splendid. I finally get you out of the house during the day and you all find a way to come right back.”

Clark looked to him briefly before returning to Damian’s face. “What happened?”

“A few kids were making fun of me and I had it handled,” Tim began.

“They pushed you!” Damian interjected, shoving Clark’s hands away from his face as he glared at his brother.

“You didn’t have to push him back,” Tim spat. “He was seven years older than you and much, much bigger.”

“I don’t care!”

“Well, I do! He could’ve seriously hurt you!”

“He shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“What happened?” Clark asked, his head started to throb with all of the yelling.

Jason sat up, “The kid pushed the guy and then the guy tried to shove him, like an asshole, so I punched him. His friends didn’t like that too much.” His chin rose, eyes hard. “Nobody picks on my brothers.”

Tim’s eyes cut to Jason briefly before returning to the table. “How’d Tim get the black eye?” Clark asked.

Tim’s mouth worked, guilty faced. “One of his friends hit Damian in the face, so I punched him. Things got kind of out of control after that.”

“Wonderful. Such great examples you’ve set for the younger children at school. You’ve certainly made your father proud,” Alfred scolded. He handed Damian and Tim ice packs and sent them to their rooms. Jason trailed out after them, not an ounce of regret on his face. Alfred sighed, covering his face. “I don’t know what to do with them. Ever since Richard went off to college, Jason has been impossible.”

Clark found a smile, standing up straight. “He’s doing his best,” he said, earning a pointed stare. “He promised to look after them. Do you really think Dick would’ve done things any differently?”

“Do I think Dick would’ve solved the problem without bloodshed?” Clark nodded. Alfred thought it over for a moment as he pushed the chairs back under the table. “I’d like to think so. He rarely ever got into fights.”

“And when he did?” Clark asked, earning a long-suffering sigh.

“Jason attracted a lot of bullies in his first days at Gotham Academy. Dick did his best to protect him.”

Clark squeezed his shoulder as he left the room. “Jason might just be following his brother’s lead.”

As Clark passed by Tim’s door, he heard whispering.

“Don’t be stupid,” Damian insisted.

Through the crack in the door, he could see the boys sitting on Tim’s bed. Damian held an ice pack up to Tim’s eye, his brow furrowed in concern. Tim pushed his hand away, muttering, “I’m fine.” At Damian’s stubborn scowl, he sighed, taking over holding the ice pack. A beat. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Green eyes narrowed in silence. Finally, Damian let out a huff and laid down on his side. Tim’s face softened, his hand smoothing over Damian’s hair as he settled. The boy fell asleep within seconds, snoring quietly, his hand twisted in Tim’s shirt. Watching quietly, Tim carefully reached over and set the ice pack down on the bedside table. Carefully, he tilted Damian’s head up towards the lamp light, frowning as his fingers traced over Damian’s cheek and the gash above his brow.

Gathering his brother in his arms, he laid down on his side and closed his eyes.

Warming, Clark softly closed the door and moved further down the hall. He knocked on Jason’s door; it didn’t matter. He had headphones on blasting music so loud Clark could actually hear the lyrics. Upon seeing Clark’s head peek around the door, Jason pulled his headphones down with a nod.

“’Sup, Thirteen. You gonna yell at me some more?”

Clark pulled over his usual chair and sat down. “You think I need to?”

“I’m not going to apologize.” He crossed his arms, a stubborn twist to his mouth. “Alfie can yell at me all he wants, but I’m not going to let some punks go after my family.”

Nodding, Clark leaned back in his chair. “I’m not here to give a speech. I don’t think I need to. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Jason gestured to his face, the corner of his mouth turning up. “Not a scratch on the old moneymaker. I’m still devilishly handsome.”

“And humble as ever,” Clark remarked.

“That kid though,” Jason said, shaking his head with a fond smile. “The bat brat really laid one on that older kid. You should’ve seen him.” He bit his lip, eyes alit with pride. “I couldn’t have taught him better myself.”

“Well, he’s been taking martial arts classes.”

“Yeah, in between all the nerd stuff, I know.” He shrugged, smile widening. “But you can’t teach that. He’s got a gift.”

Clark shook his head, standing up. “Take care of those knuckles, alright?”

Jason saluted, grasping his headphones. As Clark turned, he called out, “Hey, T?” Clark looked to him. “Tim thanked me.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, the smile slipping off his face bit by bit. “It made me feel like shit.”

“Why?”

“He sounded all surprised, like he didn’t think I would help. Like he thought I’d see some kids pushing him around and just let it slide.” His face paled and he chewed on his lip for a bit. “Was I that bad?” he asked quietly.

Clark sank down in his chair. “Well, you two weren’t exactly the closest. I won’t place blame but, it wasn’t easy between the two of you.”

“Yeah, I remember taking a slice of pizza to the face.” He picked at a spot on his jeans. “I just thought, you know, it’s clear family is family. Everyone else is everyone else. Dick always looked out for me, even when we fought.”

Clark ruffled his hair, earning a glare. “Can’t go back, Jase. You can only go forward. Today, you showed up. Maybe not the way we would have hoped, but you were there when your brothers needed you.”

Jason took this in, nodding to himself. “Yeah, well, I keep my word. So,” he let out a slow breath, pulling his headphones back on.

Bruce was more than a little upset about the boys’ suspension.

Clark curled up on his chest, listening to him rant for at least ten minutes before he spoke. “I’m not condoning what they did, but I think today was the first day I ever heard Jason call Tim his brother.”

Bruce’s hand stilled on Clark’s back. “What?”

“It can’t have escaped your attention that they don’t exactly get along.”

“No, but Dick and Jason used to come to blows over the last piece of bacon. They were still brothers.”

“It’s always been different between Tim and Jason. Nothing I did ever seemed to help.” He sighed, tracing circles over Bruce’s hip. “In fact, a few things I did only seemed to make things worse.”

Bruce took his hand, kissing his palm. “You were just trying to help.”

“I know but…” he shook himself a bit. “Today, something changed.”

“So, I should be happy Jason punched someone because it brought him closer to his brother?”

“Not exactly,” Clark said, sitting up.

“Then what are you saying?”

“It was nice to see that, when it really matters, they’ll stick up for each other. They were showing that the only way they knew how.”

Bruce studied him for a moment before sighing, pressing a kiss to Clark’s temple. “I was having flashbacks to being called to the office because Dick got into a fight. Someone stole Jason’s lunch or defaced one of his favorite books. I tried everything I could to teach him there were others ways to deal with bullies. Dick would put up with a lot when he was the one being picked on, but, when it was Jason, he had a limit.”

Smiling, Clark rested his head on Bruce’s chest.

+

_One year later._

It was the first night in quite some time that the entire family gathered for Friday night dinner.

Dick flew in from California, Jason came down from NYU and Cass had returned from her trip abroad with Harper and Stephanie. Duke came down from Columbia and even Kate had dropped in for the celebration.

Bruce raised his glass in toast, Clark’s arm draped over his shoulder. “I’m proud to say another member of our family is headed off to college. I’ve had the great pleasure of seeing you grow from a boy into a man. You are one of the most determined, intelligent and kindest men I know.” He raised his glass higher, a smile on his face. “To Tim, who’s been accepted to Gotham University.”

Glass clinked together as everyone cheered. Damian sat in the back, watching all of it silently.

They sat down for the cake Clark had made. Damian sat down beside Cass as Stephanie called for Tim to make a speech. He’d just opened his mouth when a gob of cake smashed into his face.

Blinking, he wiped at the frosting on his forehead as he searched the table for the culprit. Damian abruptly stood, his left hand covered in cake and frosting, green eyes flashing. Tim’s face twisted into a scowl. Before Damian left the table, Tim’s own slice of cake flew across the table, splattering frosting all over Damian’s mouth and Cass’ shoulder.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Clark muttered, standing up as Damian launched himself across the table.

No one’s cake was safe as the boys grabbed at whoever’s plate was closest and hauled cake at each other. Jason sat back in the corner, quietly eating his and watching everything go down. Clark grabbed Damian around the waist as Bruce reached for Tim before he could throw Dick’s cake across the table.

As they were dragged from the room, Jason asked, “Do you think they realized they were fighting each other?”

Bruce and Clark dumped the boys in the study. “Someone better start talking,” Bruce said, arms crossed.

Damian and Tim glared at each other from their chairs. “Guys, come on. This was supposed to be a happy occasion,” Clark tried. Neither boy spoke. Sighing, he looked to Bruce. “Let’s give them some time.”

“Maybe they’ll talk if we lock them in here,” Bruce muttered.

Once the door was shut, Damian’s gaze shifted to the painting behind the desk. It was one of his; he’d gifted it to Bruce a few years ago. Cass had snuck him into one of her art classes at the performing arts academy and the teacher had taken a liking to him and offered him a spot in their summer program. A joint venture with Gotham University. His first real taste of college at nine years old.

His eyes burned and he clenched his jaw shut, focused on the painting. After some time, Tim spoke. “I thought you’d be happy for me.” A pause. “D, can you at least look at me?” Silence. “Say something.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You got into MIT,” At Tim’s silence, Damian looked over, seeing realization set in.

“You went through my things.”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.” Damian pulled his legs up to his chin. “You got in and you’re turning it down to go to Gotham University.”

“I thought you liked the school,” Tim began, his cheeks warming.

“I did.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not,” he bit off his words, letting out a frustrated huff. “You could go to MIT where you could be great, but you’re throwing it away to stay here.”

“It’s a good school—”

“But it’s not the best!”

“Well, maybe I’m not the best!” Tim shouted, his breathing heavy, eyes gleaming. It gave Damian pause, searching his brother’s face. “You ever think of that?” He slumped down in his chair, running his clean hand over his head. “Maybe I’m the best at Gotham Academy, but MIT is full of people who were the best where they came from. What if I go and I can’t measure up?”

It was quiet for a moment before Damian scoffed. “You really are an idiot,” he hissed, earning a wounded stare. “You’re not only top of your class, you were the top in every state competition, the best at every meaningless science fair. You talked circles around Dad’s R&D tech nerds and you hadn’t even graduated high school yet. You really think you won’t be able to measure up at a school that was practically made for you?”

A tear rolled down Tim’s cheek, his voice thick. “You really think so?”

“I don’t think, I know. And sure, it’d be nice to ship you out of state for any reason, but I really think you’re making a mistake. Don’t settle.” He averted his gaze, picking at a thread on his pants. “You’re the smartest person I know. It’s annoying.”

Tim laughed, reaching out and kicking his shoe. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

Damian fought a smile, kicking him back. “Then listen to me. Stop being stupid.”

Tim chewed on a nail, studying their feet. “I’ve never been that far from home.” He looked up, meeting Damian’s eyes. “From you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not a baby anymore. I don’t need you around all the time,” he rasped, his eyes warming.

Tim stood up, pulling Damian into his arms. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I know, Dami.”

+

_Two years later._

Cass was practicing in her old makeshift dance studio.

Damian hung back, watching her perform until she came to a stop. Turning around, she laughed, smiling as she hurried over to turn off the music. _How long have you been standing there?_

_Not long,_ he signed with a smile. _You were wonderful. No surprise there._

She sat down across from him. _You used to watch me dance for hours when you were a baby. I think you were my biggest fan._

Damian pulled his knees up, hesitant as she studied him quietly. Finally, he signed, _How did you know you were different?_

_How do you mean?_

Cheeks warming, he clumsily signed, _How did you know that you liked girls?_

Her eyes widened and she laughed, ducking her head down as she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. _Why do you ask?_

 _Jon kissed me after school yesterday._ She nodded in understanding, waiting for him to continue. _We were just talking about our lab project and he just kissed me._

_And how did that make you feel?_

_I don’t know,_ he signed in frustration. He focused on a spot of paint on his knee. _Jon’s my best friend. We didn’t get along at first, but now he’s the person I tell everything to._

 _You seem,_ she paused, choosing her words carefully, _angry._

 _He’s my best friend. I thought I was his. He’s been hiding this from me,_ he signed in a rush, his cheeks flushed.

 _Maybe he was scared?_ Cass tried.

_Of what? Me?_

_That you’d react badly._ She chewed on her lip, adding, _With me, I knew because I watched my best friend kiss_ _someone else and I was heartbroken._

Damian tried to imagine how he’d feel if he’d watched Jon kiss someone else. He stretched out his legs, smiling when she lined their feet up. _I think, if I saw him with someone else, I wouldn’t like it._ He shrugged, running a hand over his head. _Jon’s so,_ he struggled for the word, _sincere?_

He looked to her in question and she smiled encouragingly. _Sincere,_ she signed smoothly. _How so?_

 _He actually listens when I talk and he says all of these nice things about me and actually means them. He thinks I’m this amazing person and I just,_ his breath caught. _I try really hard, at everything, and it never seems like it’s enough._

Cass’ eyes narrowed, her hands moving swiftly. _What do you mean?_

 _I know who my family is – my other family,_ he corrected. _They’re not good people, but they’re great. I know why I’m here, why Dad won’t let me see them, but I can’t help but wonder if I would’ve been enough for them. For my mom. You know, sometimes I wonder if, maybe she never tried to see me because she knew I would never measure up._

At Cass’ face, he quickly continued, _I know people think I’m smart and good at everything I try, but I never feel good enough. And Jon thinks I’m amazing and I don’t really believe him. Because, if I was, then why hasn’t my mother tried to find me? If I was good enough—_

Cass grabbed his hands, her breathing labored, eyes wet. She pushed in closer, her legs folded as she released his hands. _Listen to me, you are enough. You’re more than enough. You made your life your own. I’ve never seen anyone so incredibly sure of who they are. It’s enough that you’re happy. It’s enough that you’re passionate about art and animals. It’s enough that you’re a great brother and a wonderful friend. You are enough. You’ve always been enough._

She tugged Damian into her arms, holding him close as she rubbed his back. While he didn’t quite believe her, he held on tight.

+

Damian was in the cave with Clark when Alfred called for him.

Sitting atop Clark’s shoulders, they were hovering several feet above the ground so that Damian could feed the bats. It had taken quite some time for Clark to get used to the feeling of hundreds of little wings fluttering around him. Quite simply put, it still kind of gave him the creeps. But, Damian was determined to keep the flying creatures fed and Clark liked making him happy.

They were hard at work when Alfred called out, “Master Damian, there’s someone here to see you. A young boy.”

Blushing, Damian’s hand twisted in Clark’s shirt. Clark lowered them to the ground, curious about the flush to Damian’s cheeks. He watched Damian pull off his gloves and nervously run his fingers through his hair. When he realized he was being watched, he turned to glare at Clark.

“Can I help you?” he demanded.

Laughing, Clark strode forward, smoothing down a piece of hair that was sticking up in the back. “You look fine.” At Damian’s wide eyes, he smiled, straightening his shirt. “Honest.”

Damian studied him doubtfully for a moment before nodding and racing up the stairs. He paused at the top, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Damian found Jon sitting at the bar munching on a chocolate chip cookie. He was babbling away at the same time, both amusing and confusing Alfred all at once.

“My mom’s a reporter, so she’s really good at listening when other people talk and writing and stuff. I think I might want to do that when I grow up, but my dad thinks I’d probably be good at being a doctor since I like helping people.”

Alfred nodded, pouring him a glass of milk. Jon swallowed the last of his cookie, looking at the plate of them forlornly. Laughing, Alfred pushed the plate closer. “You’re more than welcome to have more. I must admit, I’m used to making enough for five children and, now that there’s just the one, they’ll go to waste without someone else to eat them.”

“Can’t have that,” Jon said warmly, grabbing another. He’d just shoved it in his mouth when he saw Damian standing in the entryway. “Dami—” he started, choking on his bite.

Panicked, Damian rushed forward as Alfred patted the boy on the back. He swallowed, eyes watering, face flushed with embarrassment. “Sorry,” Jon rasped, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “Got a little excited.”

“Forgot to chew?” Damian asked, proud of how steady his voice was.

“Yeah,” Jon said, forcing out a laugh. He brushed cookie crumbs off of his shirt and jeans. “Can we talk?”

“Talk?”

“Yeah, somewhere,” he looked around the room at Alfred and Clark who were standing off to the side and doing nothing to hide the fact that they were staring. “Somewhere not here, maybe?”

Nodding, Damian stepped forward. “Sure, we can go outside.” At Jon’s hesitance, he sighed, “You can grab the cookies.”

“Sweet!” Jon cheered, beaming. The sight sent a nervous flutter through Damian’s stomach.

They went out on the patio, closing the door behind them. Damian sat on the bench, waiting for Jon to join him. He sat in the middle, setting the cookies on his right side. After some time, he frowned, “Oh, I didn’t offer you one.”

“It’s fine.”

“They’re really good.”

“I know, I’m just —I’m not hungry,” Damian blurted out, his stomach in knots.

Jon’s eyes widened, “Oh, okay.” He set the plate down, clasping his hands together in his lap. A few moments passed in silence. Then, “So, about yesterday—”

“It’s totally not a big deal. We don’t have to talk about it—”

“No, no, I think we should. I don’t want things to be weird,” Jon said, wringing his hands together. “You’re my best friend—”

“You’re my best friend—”

“And I shouldn’t have done that. I know I probably made you feel weird—”

“I just wasn’t expecting it—”

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t right of me to not even tell you—”

“It’s fine, I actually kind of liked it—”

“I like you – wait, you did?” Jon asked, his cheeks flushed. “You liked it?”

“What were you going to say?” Damian asked, searching his face.

After some time, the flush darkened and Jon lowered his head, peeking at Damian through his fringe. “You make me really nervous, Dami.”

“I don’t try to,” he rasped, his stomach twisting.

Jon’s head popped up, blue eyes wide. “Oh, I know! I know that, it’s just that,” he chewed on his lip, lashes fluttering, “I like you a lot.”

“Oh,” Damian said, his cheeks burning. “I like you a lot, too.”

Jon beamed, his eyes bright and hopeful. “Yeah?” Damian nodded, a tentative smile spreading across his face. “So… can I kiss you? Again, I mean. I really want to kiss you again.”

“Uh, sure.”

Damian’s hands were clammy and he rubbed them on his jeans as Jon leaned in. They bumped heads almost immediately, coming up to stare at each other for a second. Stomach twisting, Damian leaned in, watching as Jon’s eyes closed. When their lips touched, a warmth expanded in his chest. It was nothing more than a few seconds, but Damian’s lips tingled as they pulled apart. He touched them softly, fighting a smile.

Jon smiled at him, eyes bright and knowing. Then he stood up. “I’ve gotta get home. My mom worries if I’m late. New town and all that.”

Damian stood up, searching for something to say. “You, uh, you can have the cookies. If you want.”

“Thanks,” he replied, taking Damian’s hand.

They stood there for at least another ten minutes, Damian’s hand in his.

+

Damian paced back and forth, the brisk air cutting through his suit jacket.

His coat was inside the gallery. One look at the clock left him flustered enough to head outside to the parking lot, without his coat. Twenty-degree weather and all. He cupped his hands around his mouth, pacing quickly, a few feet from the doors.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he quickly turned, second away from slamming the heel of his hand into his father’s chin. Bruce moved smoothly backwards, catching his hand. Damian winced in apology as Bruce offered a smile.

“So, you seem… anxious.”

“I’m not,” Damian said, pacing a few more steps. Bruce’s smile widened and Damian huffed out a breath. He stopped. “What if nobody else shows up?”

“You mean what if a certain boy doesn’t show up?” he asked and Damian glared at him. “They will. Everyone’s coming.”

“How do you know?” Damian rasped, his eyes bright. “You can practice something your entire life, but that doesn’t make you _good_.”

“Did that come from the world’s _worst_ motivational speech?” a deep voice called out.

Bruce looked over Damian’s shoulder to find Jason striding towards them, a smirk on his face. He draped an arm across Damian’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “How you doin’ kid?”

“He’s a little nervous,” Bruce said, earning another glare.

“About what?” Jason stood up taller, eying the gallery entrance as Bruce headed back inside. “Worried you won’t be able to carry all that cash home? I’ll be glad to take some of it off your hands.”

Damian bit down a smile. “You don’t get it.”

“’Course I do,” Jason said quietly. “You made something with your own two hands and it’s got your life written all over it. It’s a big deal sharing that with a bunch of strangers.”

Searching his face, Damian nodded once. “That’s part of it.”

“I’m the dumbass that majored in English thinking I wouldn’t have to write anything. About myself, anyway.” He nodded to Bruce as he headed back inside, leaning against his car as Damian stood beside him. “It’s not easy. But I did it.”

“So, get over it?”

“Pretty much,” Jason said with a cheeky grin. He toed at Damian’s shoe with his boot. “We can stay out here for a bit, if you want.” His gaze lifted, brows raising. “And laugh at Timmy’s new haircut.”

“Seriously?” Tim asked, eyes narrowed. “I’ve been gone for how long now, and that’s what you lead with?”

Jason shrugged, watching as Tim pulled Damian into a hug. “Thanks for coming,” Damian whispered, a small smile on his face.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Tim said. He scanned the parking lot. “Besides, I had to meet Jon.”

Damian’s cheeks reddened, eyes flashing as Jason bounced up on his toes, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Jon? Who’s that? You been holding out on me, Dames?”

“Our little brother has a boyfriend, apparently. Has for some time now,” Tim said with a grin. “Seeing as I didn’t get the chance to vet him—”

“I don’t need your permission to—” he started when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Turning around, he shoved the heel of his hand into someone’s chest. A boy stumbled backwards, coughing, a messy nest of dark hair came into view.

Stunned, Damian started forward, “Jon?”

Coughing, he tried to straighten, his eyes watering. “Sorry I’m late.” Rushing forward, Damian tried to help him stand.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jon tried for a smile as Damian straightened his jacket. “Are you wearing a suit?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, blushing.

“You didn’t have to come,” Damian blurted out.

Jon was taken aback for a second. Of all the things about him that made Damian nervous, his eyes were the worst of them. These big, cartoon-like eyes that were so expressive, it made it near impossible for him to hide anything he was feeling. Even now, as Damian watched nervousness give way to hurt. Without meaning to, Damian had clearly hurt his feelings. He swallowed, starting to correct himself when Jon stepped forward, taking his hand.

“Yes, I did. This is a big day for you,” he said, holding Damian’s gaze. “I want to be here for you.”

The knot in Damian’s throat untwisted, bit by bit. With every moment Jon stood there holding his hand. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jon said with a burst of enthusiasm. “Plus, I know your stuff’s really great. I’m excited to see it,” he added with a smile. He shrugged out of his coat, wrapping it around Damian’s shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go inside.”

Jason and Tim stood off to the side, barely bothering to hide the fact that they were blatantly staring.

Bruce walked the exhibit on his own.

The kids were walking it together, half teasing Damian about his new boyfriend and half entertaining Jason’s questioning about when the bat brat got so good with a paintbrush and why none of the rest of them were talented.

 _Speak for yourself,_ Harper signed, kissing Cass’ hand as she pulled her along to the next painting.

“Fair enough,” he replied, letting Dick push him forward to the next portrait.

Clark and Alfred were a few pieces back, but Bruce moved on alone.

It was a series: _Thirteen Scenes_.

Thirteen paintings of Damian throughout his life. Of Jason reading Harry Potter by flashlight with Damian curled up beside him in the library. Of Cass dancing with Damian, his little feet on top of hers in the makeshift studio. Of Damian sitting on Clark’s shoulders as he rose up to feed the bats in the cave. Of Dick holding Damian steady on the balance beam, a proud light in his eyes. Of Alfred’s light glare, staring across a chess board seconds before defeat. There were a few of Tim, jumping in the lake with Damian, riding horseback with him on Martha Kent’s farm, curled up together asleep on the couch.

There weren’t any of Bruce.

He reached the end of the exhibit with a knot in his throat. Damian’s work was phenomenal. Each piece portrayed a clear fondness and affection for the subjects in them. Even managing to convey a lightness that showed how treasured each memory was. The technique was remarkable, skilled lightyears beyond what one would expect of someone Damian’s age. It had been quite some time since Bruce had managed to see Damian's artwork – he rarely ever left it out for anyone to see.

As beautiful as his works were, Bruce couldn’t help but admire them with a heavy heart.

A hand landed gently on his back. Clark appeared at his side with a smile, brow furrowing in concern as he took in Bruce’s face. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bruce said, his voice thick. He cleared his throat. “Nothing, just tired. That’s all.”

Clark cocked his head to the side, searching his face. “What is it?”

Bruce held his gaze, his chest tightening. “They’re very good,” he said and Clark nodded. “And I’m not in them. Not a single one.”

Taking his hand, Clark squeezed tight, a soft smile on his face. “Bruce,” he began and Bruce shook his head.

“I’m being selfish, I know that.”

“Come here.” Clark pulled him down the hall towards the front, where the exhibit began. He stopped in front of a canvas covered in a white drop cloth.

“What’s this?”

Frowning, Clark moved forward. “I guess they covered this one when I bought it earlier tonight.”

“You bought it?”

Clark nodded, biting his lip. “I thought you’d want this one. And it’s a Damian Wayne original. Thought I’d grab one before they blew way past my price point.”

He reached up and carefully pulled off the drop cloth.

This painting couldn’t have been a memory. For one, Damian appeared a little over a year old. For two, the angle was all wrong. It was from the vantage point of someone standing several feet away.

“Alfred took this photo a while back,” Clark murmured over his shoulder.

In the painting, Bruce was sitting on a rocking chair, Damian nestled close to his chest. Bruce was dressed in a grey shirt and sleep pants, it must’ve been well past midnight and he had to be exhausted. He didn’t show it. Even in the dim lighting, it was easy to make out the soft expression on Bruce’s face. Gentle blue eyes brimming with warmth and easy affection. The careful way he held Damian close in his strong arms, the scarred hands cupping the back of his head and his back.

There was so much _feeling_ , it was nearly overwhelming. Bruce’s eyes warmed and he covered his mouth, gazing up at the painting. “He made this?” he asked in a small voice.

“I didn’t expect you to see it.” Damian appeared at his side, his eyes guarded. “I wasn’t sure if I should include it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not like the others. I don’t remember this,” he explained, the corner of his mouth turning up. “I found this picture. There,” he cleared his throat, raising his chin, “there aren’t a lot of pictures of us together from when I was younger.”

“I’m sorry. That was probably my fault. I wasn’t around all that much.” He pulled Damian into his side, kissing the top of his head. “You’re incredibly talented, you know? I’m so proud of you.”

“You are?” Damian asked, eyes widening.

“You’re more than good, kiddo. You’re great." He pulled Damian into his arms, holding him tight. "You've always been great.”

Clark smiles, smoothing his fingers over the title card. 

_“This Is the Start.”_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Forgot to note, the Jon Kent that appears here is the son of another universe's Clark Kent and Lois Lane.


End file.
